Busy mofoin' day.

I've become obsessed.

With the Pixies. I keep playing them. Doolittle, specifically. This is the 3rd time today I've listened to it. I'm also hooked on Mike Doughty's New video "Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well."

Anyways. We've been busy as hell, as we're short 2 guys today. Sorry to bitch so much about work lately, but it's consuming my life, ya know?

I'm out of town this weekend, heading up the former stomping grounds of Minneapolis/St. Paul, for my mother's birthday party, and a mini-reunion with some old friends from high school and college.

Should be a hoot.

Bosco dun scooped me.

He did. He must have some kind of sixth sense or something, but the big news is that one of the major archetects of the NHL Strike, the baffoon who helped create the first ever professional sports league to miss an entire season due to a labor dispute, has quit his post.

Good bye, and good riddance. Pick up your suitcase full of dogshit at the front desk.

Question of the day.

Customer: What's an exclamation point?

I wish I were kidding.

I sincerely wish I were kidding. Someone get me Charles Darwin. Now.

More tests. I need to wake up.

You Are 10% Redneck

I'll slap you so hard, your clothes will be outta style. You ain't no redneck - you're all Yankee!

How Redneck Are You?

Your Brain is 53.33% Female, 46.67% Male

Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female You are both sensitive and savvy Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve

What Gender Is Your Brain?

You Belong in 1969

1969 If you scored... 1950 - 1959: You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in! 1960 - 1969: You are a free spirit with a huge heart. Love, peace, and happiness rule - oh, and drugs too. 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! 1980 - 1989: Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day. 1990 - 1999: With you anything goes! You're grunge one day, ghetto fabulous the next. It's all good!

What Year Do You Belong In?

American Cities That Best Fit You:

75% Chicago

65% Boston

60% New York City

60% Philadelphia

50% Los Angeles

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

Your Inner European is Irish!

Sprited and boisterous! You drink everyone under the table.

Who's Your Inner European?

What Your Dreams Mean...

Your dreams seem to show that you're a bit disturbed... but nothing serious. You may have a problem you're trying to work out in your sleep. Overall, you are very content in your life. You tend to be a very productive thinker. Your dreams indicate that you have very conflicted feelings. You have a very vivid imagination and a rich creative mind. You secretly want to hide your dreams from your waking mind.

What Do Your Dreams Mean?

Ok. No more damn tests. Pretty soon I'll have taken most of the Blogthings tests, anyways. I need a nap.

Tests, because I'm too tired to think.

Morrigan's Mess has been posting some nice tests lately. Here's one that made me laugh out loud, especially considering my results:

Your Deadly Sins

Lust: 60%

Wrath: 60%

Gluttony: 40%

Pride: 20%

Sloth: 20%

Envy: 0%

Greed: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 29%

You'll die from overexertion. *wink*

How Sinful Are You?

Yesterday afternoon and evening is a blur- at some point my friend D and I went for a drink, as she was in town for a quick conference yesterday, then I went to Ravinia and at some point I got home and slept for a bit. Unfortunately not enough, although the four bottles of wine that A and I drank last night might have something to do with it, too.

Aw, you shouldn't have!

The NHL has posted their 2005-06 schedule, which starts the day after my birthday. Happy birthday to me. You shouldn't have.

No really, you shouldn't have. You shouldn't have cancelled last season. The players shouldn't have screwed themselves, and the owners shouldn't have done the screwing. The real losers aren't the players, or the owners, but us, the fans, the folks who love the sport. Will I go to any games? Probably. It's hard to lie about that- I'll go to a few games, here and there, sure. I'll cheer for my team, and I'll go through the motions.

Will I put my heart into it? Only after an apology. By apology, I mean, turn a DeLorean into a time machine and fix the situation.

Thank Yoda for the AHL. Without it, I'd be in a world of hurt.

Tossin' and Turnin'

Something's up somewhere inside my brain. Something serious. Something has me so worried that I'm barely able to sleep through the night, and I barely sleep anyways, so I'm kinda fucked up. I need a nice therapy session or something, because one man cannot live on 5 hours a sleep a night, broken up into 4 or 5 inconvenient parts. Monday night I tossed and turned so often, and so violently, that my bed, while it easily is moved foward or backward, was actually moved to the right- a full 9 inches from where I usually keep it. This is cause for concern.

The dreams have been funky as all hell, as I've reported earlier. The other night I had a dream I was in Las Vegas with some friends, in a restaurant, and I ran into Red, of all people. She spotted me, tried to avoid me, but I cornered her, and demanded that she return my belongings. All she did was introduce me to her new boyfriend. I followed her back to their hotel room, and she returned my stuff. Finally.

Last night, I dreamt I was a police officer, on a routine stop. The odd part was, I was in Lauderdale, MN, a small suburb sandwiched between Minneapolis and St. Paul, where I lived from age 11-15. I pulled this person over, but we were on a corner, I was facing north, they were facing east. They opened their driver's side door as I was walking up from the passenger's side, and shot at me. The first shot missed, the second shot hit me in my chest, just above my heart. Fortunately, I was wearing a kevlar vest, so I wasn't killed, but I was hurt badly. I drew my weapon and fired, hitting the person once in the neck and twice in the face. They dropped immediately, as another patrol car came up. Both the person who shot me and I were taken to the hospital. I had broken ribs and a massive bruise on my chest, and they were worried, but let me go home.

Instead of going home, I went to a bar, where I was meeting my girlfriend, who was played by a friend of mine, L. She was cautious around me, very tentative and worried, almost avoiding touching me out of fear she would hurt me further. It was weird. We talked for a couple minutes before my internal alarm clock decided it was time to get up.

As I've blabbed about so many times before, I was a Psychology major in college, who wanted to study sleep and dreams, but don't buy into either major school of dream interpretation. Honestly, the best person to interpret your dreams is you, so here goes.

I'm harboring resentment towards Red. Big time. I think this is understandable after someone breaks your heart, but I don't really resent her for that. I resent her for keeping my belongings. It irks me. It made me so angry that she was unable to keep that very little promise to return my things. Especially since she has my bike rack, which I of course needed for the MS ride. Break it down, D? Let's: I don't mind that she doesn't want to be with me, it is sad and unfortunate, but don't ever, ever, EVER fuck with my ride. That's just wrong. The setting, in Vegas, is eerie as well, as we were at one point a mouse click away from flying there to get married, before clearer heads said "hey, let's sleep on this."

As far as the second one, I'm out of ideas. I think my brain was just taking a stroll through the absurd. Me as a cop. That's just weird. Perhaps I'm anxious about this trip up to the former stomping grounds of Minneapolis/St. Paul. Honestly, I thought I was looking forward to it. We'll see how that pans out.

Busy busy day.

Between pub quiz writing, prize inventory updating, and my job, I've hardly had time to breathe today. I just finished wolfing down a very unhealthy lunch, during which I caught up on blogs and took this quickie IQ test from Morrigan's Mess:

Your IQ Is 120

Your Logical Intelligence is Above Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Above Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

Personally, I know what my IQ is, so I won't comment on the actual number given. But only above average on Logic and General Knowledge? A trivia hound like me?

I demand a recount. Get me the Supreme Court!

Today's secret word is pub crawl.

Just when you thought it was safe to read fark, you come across an article like this. Makes me wish I was in San Francisco this weekend, instead of Chicago.

Blogapalooza: The experience.

Mind you, this was my first-ever Lollapalooza, and I knew what to expect, which is probably why I've never gone before. I'm not particularly fond of heat, crowds, or combining the two, add in an infinite impatience with teenagers, and well, you've got a lot of Lollavoidance. But I had to go. I just had to. I couldn't pass up the lineup. Too many bands I love, all in the same place, for the low-low price of $110. Hard to resist. Top it off with my friends A, K, B, Jen and Bosco all going, well, you suck it up and you get out there. I did not, of course, need or even want to see each and every act, and fortunately for me, I didn't need to be there either day before 2:30. Anyways, without further ado, the Lollareview:

Saturday
First things first, I couldn't believe their setup for getting your 21+ bracelet. You stood in one line to show your id to one guy, who then wrote on your hand with a marker, and then you went to another line where another guy put on your bracelet. Any under-ager with half a brain could have run across the street to the art supply store, and made good money marking up his friends so they could get bracelets. Not to mention it was just a waste of time. Anyways.

2:30-3:30: Kaiser Chiefs/Liz Phair.
I had some problems getting through security, so I was delayed and missed the early parts of Liz, and had to eat something, so I stopped and listened to the Kaiser Chiefs, who fucking rocked. Good music- kinda brit punk mixed with brit pop. Tasty, loud, and pissy. Just the way I like it. After stuffing two hamburgers down my throat($5 each) and listening to another KC song, I headed to see Liz, mid-set. She, of course, rocked her hometown crowd, even did Flower, the song that probably makes all straight men want her more than words can express. She did a great job, even joking with the crowd between songs.

4:30-5:30: Cake
Man, these guys were preachy. I almost felt guilty for spending the money to get there and listen to them. They still played some good songs, but I was a little disappointed in their overall act- I didn't come to be told what a corporate tool I was being for going to Lollapalooza, I already knew that. Shit. I'm not an idiot.

5:30-6:30: Billy Idol (Vital Idol)
Holy shit did he completely rock my fucking world. There wasn't a bad song in the set, and he did them all just like he did them 25 years ago. Out of all the shows this weekend, his was probably second best.

6:30-7:30: Primus
I hung back during this show, knowing that it was going to be a mass of jumping around fools, but I liked it. They played extremely well, and I loved the giant rubber ducks on stage. They definitely made it worth the effort, and I'm extremely glad I got to see them, finally.

7:30-8:45: Pixies
By far and away, the best show I went to this weekend. They played their hearts out and were so on and tight it was scary. The only part I didn't like about this show was that Weezer started playing at the next stage over, and decided that it was now their turn, kinda fucking up the ambience that we had with the Pixies. I loved hearing two versions of Wave of Mutilation, my all-time favorite Pixies song. They even came out and did an encore, which was really cool.

On my way out, I caught a bit of the Digable Planets show, but I couldn't stay anymore. I had to head home and get some food.

Sunday
3:30-4:30: Tegan and Sara
They have always, as Rannie the photojunkie puts it "rock[ed] my pants." The problem was, it was 104F (40C) where we were. I don't know for sure, but I'd say it's probably never been that warm in Vancouver. Yesterday's high was only 72F (22C), so you can imagine the toll weather would have taken on them. And it did. Sara fell ill, dashing off stage to vomit twice, then Tegan finished a short set, said thank you, and that was it. I hope the Sara is ok, though. It was horrible out. Even in such a short set, they still managed to rock my pants.

5:30-6:30: G. Love & Special Sauce
Almost 10 years exactly after the first time I saw him live, I got to see him again. That first time was at Cedarfest in Minneapolis, and it was sweltering hot. This time, it was Chicago and again, sweltering hot. He still came out onstage wearing a suit (pants and jacket only, a t-shirt on underneath), as he put it "so you guys wouldn't feel too hot). Gotta love and respect him for that. He played a lot of newer stuff, but still hit on his old stuff that I like so much. I'd say this was the bronze medal winner for me. Great show, and really good chemistry with the crowd. He's definitely improved with age- I haven't seen him live in at least 7 years or so.

7:30-8:30: The Dandy Warhols
I'd never seen them live before yesterday (at least, not that I remember), and honestly, although they're one of my favorite bands, especially as of late, I doubt I'll see them again. Not that their performance was bad, they started off really strong, but I didn't want to see them jam for 12 minutes on the same damn song. I wasn't too happy with that. I was even less happy with that when they did it twice.

After that, well, it was time to go home, and I took my sweaty ass home to my AC, some leftovers, and my bed. Overall, it was a good experience, but not something I'm probably going to repeat. We'll see if the bands they have next year so perfectly match my tastes again, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

Anybody have any horror or other stories from this weekend's palooza?

ciento por ciento

Of course, now that I've posted about it, things will fall apart, but check out the standings in my fantasy baseball league:

Believe me, I'm pretty freaked out about this, but I will say that first place feels good.

More later, including my Lollapalooza wrap-up.

I'm tired.

*Just to want you to know that this will probably come off as whiny, self-involved crap. You have been warned.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of terrorists.

I'm tired of being told to be scared.

I'm tired of Bush.

I'm tired of Blago.

I'm tired of Daley.

I'm tired of telling people to click on something, and have them ask me if they should click 'ok' afterwards.

I'm tired of working odd hours.

I'm tired of drinking.

I'm tired of women.

I'm tired of dating.

I'm tired of game-playing people.

I'm tired of lies.

I'm tired of planning.

I'm tired of waiting.

I'm tired of sitting.

I'm tired of riding the train.

I'm tired. Just tired. I mean, is there something horrible about wanting to be an independently wealthy husband and father who spends his days bike riding? Am I somehow jealous of Lance? Nah. I don't want the fame. Hell, this could be the weekend- the MegaMillions is huge, the bike's begging me to take it out, and I'm going to be among thousands of people watching a concert this weekend. Everything might just work itself out by Monday, right?

We'll see. Happy Friday, everyone! In 3 hours I'll be drinking at a baseball game. And don't you worry, Henry, I'll have a couple beers for you.

Bored. So very, very bored.

Tonight is the last of my night shifts, at least for a couple weeks. This is good news for me, as there's absolutely nothing to do. All I've done tonight is watch time go by, play some online games, and listen to music. Currently:
I love this band. I really to. Makes me wish I was out at a bar with a cold pint of black in my hand, though.

Good news just came in- my Lollapalooza tickets and wristbands have been acquired. I now am committed to going to my first ever Lollapalooza, where I know I'm going to feel like the old, creepy guy at the show. Fortunately, most of the people I'm going with are older than me, so hopefully that'll stave off the "I'm old and creepy" feeling.

If you're going, and you're thinking to yourself, "I'll bet I can spot Dave feeling like the creepy old guy," or "shit, I definitely don't want to see that creepy old guy," well, here's your clues. Check the schedule and look for/avoid me at the following shows: Liz Phair, Brian Jonestown Massacre, Cake, Billy Idol, Primus and Pixies on Saturday. Sunday: Tegan and Sara, Drive-By-Truckers, G Love & Special Sauce, and Dandy Warhols.

Tomorrow night, you can look for me and some of my creepy friends at Comiskey, taking in the Sox-Sox game. I'll be, as always, rooting for the Sox. And drinking.

Laddy, don't you think you ought to rephrase that?

Rest in peace, James "Scotty" Doohan.

I grew up watching Star Trek, and I am a fan who has no problem admitting my geekdom. I don't go to conventions wearing fake ears or anything (and if I would, I'd go as a Klingon), but I have no qualms about my status as a fan of the series and the vision. It also goes without saying that a Scotsman would be one of my favorite characters, and he was. There's something about that character- the way he cared about his ship, his crew, his sense of humor, his sense of honor, that's what made me like him so much. I would love to sit down and have a drink with that character, and I'm certain he would have obliged.

Anyways, rest in peace, James Doohan.

These Dreams

These dreams go on when I close my eyes

Last night, I dreamt I was at my grandparents' farm, with my whole family. I was walking from the machine shed to the garage, when I was struck by lightning. Not once, but twice, and yes, it was in the same spot. The first bolt went down from my right shoulder to my left foot. The second bolt struck my left thigh, and went out my left foot. After both strikes, I was knocked out, and woke up in one of the the upstairs bedrooms in my grandparents' house. I rolled over, and the paramedics were asking me if I was ok. I rolled over and groaned. I was very badly hurt, but I didn't know how badly hurt. All I really knew was that my knee was in extreme pain.

Every second of the night I live another life

I rolled over to the right, and the covers fell off my body, revealing the damage the second bolt had done- the outer part of my thigh had exploded- leaving what looked like a slab cut out of my leg. One of the paramedics vomited, the other, much calmer, said, "it's going to be ok. We can fix this."

These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside

I was bandaged, taken to the hospital, and there was surgery done. My aunt, who used to work for an orthopedic surgeon, was there with me the whole time, but I was asleep (I prefer to be out for my knee surgeries, I think they'd freak me out if I were awake). I woke up later on, again at my grandparents' house. My aunt was there, and told me to keep calm. I was woozy and weak and very confused. I looked at my leg, and there was a huge bandage there, but not going around my leg. It was wedged into the wound left from the "explosion."

Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away

That's about when I woke up, weirded out. I had a real bitch of a time falling asleep last night (probably had something to do with staying out way too late on Saturday) and when I finally did fall asleep, this weirdness, this out of control dream, happened. As you know, dear reader, I am fully capable of lucid dreaming, but this whole weekend, I was unable to do it.

Allow me to digress further into my mind, to Sunday morning's doozy.

There's something out there I can't resist

My ex-girlfriend (I'm not revealing her identity) and I are moving into a boarding school. We're sharing a room, but we're going to have separate beds, but only one is there at this time. As we unpack, we discuss the sleeping arrangements, and decide that it's ok if we share a bed. There's a knock on the door. The person there is a hybrid of a friend of mine from High School, BP, and the friend that the lightbulb tattoo is for, KP.
He comes in, we talk briefly. He's worried about some bullies around the school. He feels threatened. I tell him it'll be ok, that he should go to his room and wait, and I'll take care of somethings and meet him there in an hour.

I need to hide away from the pain

A few hours later, no one had seen him. We got worried, and decided to do some detective work on our own, as the school's authorities weren't doing anything. We searched, asked friends and acquaintences, got a couple leads, and followed them. My ex and I split up, figuring we could follow leads better that way.

There's something out there I can't resist

Eventually, we were in the gymnasium, both of us had climbed up some risers which reached 2 stories up. We got to the top, and I looked through the crack, and tried to get some light down there so I could see. Squinting, I saw something down there, amongst a lot of trash. I pulled really hard on the risers, pushing against the wall with my feet, and they gave way about 2 feet, and then I saw my friends lifeless body fall down deeper into the pile of refuse.

The sweetest song is silence that I've ever heard

As you might have guessed, I was wide awake after that. I wasn't lucid dreaming again. I was frustrated. Needless to say, with two nights in a row of this kind of thing, what the hell is going on deep inside my brain? Why can't I take control of these dreams anymore?

The answers, my friends aren't blowing the wind. They're somewhere in me. I think that practice makes perfect, and I've been a little lax in my lucid dreaming, so I'm going to work on that, starting today. As far as what's going on with these crazy images in my head, well, let's just say I'm going to devote some though that way, too.

Cell phones.

I love mine. I can also honestly say I could not live without it. I also pride myself on using a unique ringtone- the neighing horse.

Now, however, I'm thinking it might be time to download some orgasmtones. We'll see just how fast I pick up the phone on the el now, right?

Thanks to Fark for the link.

Meme-a-palooza II

After I put up some, Henry put some up, and did a couple I thought were funny.

Your Kissing Purity Score: 11% Pure

For you, it's all kiss and no talk. You're in a permanent lip lock.

Kissing Purity Test

Your Irish Name Is...

Padraig Dillon

What's your Irish Name?

Star Wars Horoscope for Libra

You are on a lifelong pursuit of justice and determined to succeed. You convey the art of persuasion through force. You always display your supreme intelligence. You have a great talent in obtaining balance between yourself and your surroundings. Star wars character you are most like: Obi Wan Kenobie

What is Your Star Wars Horoscope?

Your Libra Drinking Style

"I'm jusht a social drinker," you slur, "it's jusht that I'm so damn social?" You love nothing more than to party, mingle and relate to everyone. Whether dipped in favor of Good Libra (with Insta-Friend device set to "on") or heavier on the Evil Libra side (you are little instigators when bored), you can really work a room. Charming as you are, you are notoriously lacking in self-control. And this can get you into all sorts of trouble -- including wearing their wobbly boots waaaay too early in the evening. You may end up flirting with you best friend's sweetie or even blacking out the night's events entirely. Oops!

Your Signature Cocktails

Aesthetic Libras like pretty, pouffy drinks like a pink lady or a brandy Alexander. That's the influence of Venus, your ruling planet, which also gives you a horror of crudely named potions like Sex on the Beach. You're fine with "normal" guzzles like apple martinis, but every Libra secretly just wants champagne... and lots of it.

Your Celebrity Drinking Buddies

Eminem, Simon Cowell, Avril Lavigne, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Usher, Gwen Stefani, Hillary Duff, and Will Smith.

What's Your Alcohoroscope?

Your Drag Queen Name is: Kristy Kreme

Get your own Drag Queen Name

Ok, ok, I know, enough with the fluff, right?

Things that made me happy today.

They're few and far between, but I just wanted to recognize a couple happy facts:

#1- it is Friday, finally.

#2- it is payday, finally.

#3- I'm going to see a friend's band tonight.

That's it. Unfortunately for me, I also volunteered to work tomorrow from 3-6, but hey, overtime is overtime, and overtime is good.

Meme-a-palooza

The problem with me working during non-peak hours is that I tend to find all kinds of crap on the internet, then I post it here for your torture. Here goes:

Your Sexy Brazilian Name Is

Reynaldo de Vasconcelos

What's Your Sexy Brazilian Name?

Your Japanese Name Is...

Kenta Kajuji

What's your Japanese Name?

In a Past Life...

You Were: An Evil Monk. Where You Lived: Iran. How You Died: In Childbirth.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

Overall, Your Observation Skills Get: B+

Your senses are pretty sharp (okay, most of the time) And it takes something big to distract you!

How Observant Are You?

Something of relative substance later.

The answer to the ultimate question.

My friend L and I were sitting in the outdoor patio of the restaurant of their hotel on Michigan Avenue on Saturday evening, enjoying a Guinness and the tremendous people-watching opportunities that Michigan Avenue offers. She and her family are considering a move to this glorious city, and she asked me, point-blank, why I love Chicago. Unfortunately, there are so many things that I love about this city for me to just blurt out after a pint of black. Let's see if I can give the reasons here.

#1- The grid system. Chicago's city planners were absolute geniouses. It is almost impossible to get lost in this city. Read about the grid system here.

#2- The Lake. Lake Michigan is not someplace that I ever want to swim, but I'll bike down the path, take a romantic walk along it, play softball by it, and ride a boat on it. It is also a handy navigational tool, as you can only drive so far east on Belmont without getting wet.

#3- Al Capone. Big Al, as you probably know, ran booze here. He started bars. The Red line was extended from Wilson to Lawrence to accomodate his bar, the Green Mill. Thanks to his efforts, some bars are open until 4 am. Not just on weekends, either, that's on a Monday night, friends and neighbors- the City extends drinking hours even further, in that bars are open for an extra hour on Saturday nights. Just about any bar has wonderful character and history, too. I could go on for days on this topic, so we'll just suffice it to say that the bars and the nightlife are great.

#4- Sports. No, I'm not a diehard Cubs, Sox, Bears, Bulls or Blackhawks fan. I am, however, very happy to have options. I am also a card-carrying, personalized-jersey-owning, roster-memorizing, one-step-down-from-facepainting Wolves fan, and will be until I die. Why? Let me drop some names: Wendell Young (the only player to win all four North American Championships, not to mention beat the living shit out of Shaun Penn), Steve Maltais (always high on the most goals scored list, and badass captain), Jeremy Mylymok (Mr. Badass Enforcer himself- once checked a guy so hard the guy's stick broke as it wrapped around his neck and head) and of course, Derek MacKenzie (send a Scotsman!). Don't forget that this is a city with excellent intramural and social leagues for just about any sport you can think of. Name it, we've probably got it somewhere around here.

#5- Chicagoans. As a people, city dwellers around here are usually friendly, laid-back, and fun to be around. As with everything, however, there are exceptions to this. On the whole, though, you can count on us to share a beer with you when you need it.

#6- Location, location, location. Chicago is 150 miles from my grandparents' homes, 410 from my father's house, and 470 from my mother's. I've also got two airports to choose from, and if I ever get the urge to go to Milwaukee, I could bike there!

#7- Jobs. Even though I have only ever been unemployed in Chicago, and for a total of 7 1/2 months, there are plenty of jobs in this city, if you're willing to work them.

#8- Food. Wow. There's just too much to think about here. We've got everything, though. Pizza, Thai, Cuban, Sushi, Italian, Greek, Ethiopian, Russian, Mediterranean, Jewish, Vietnamese. Everything.

There's more reasons, I know. I can feel them deep down inside, begging to be added to this list, but I'm not talking about the bad things about Chicago, like the fact that all roads lead to the Loop, both public trainsportation-wise and driving. Sometimes, but not often, our mayor goes crazy and does something completely inexcusable, like hire construction workers to tear up Meigs Field in the middle of the night, finally closing the airport. We've also got one hell of a sales tax, at a whopping 9%. Traffic isn't all that great, and unless you've got an I-Pass, you have to pay double the toll, but I don't drive enough for that to make a difference.

How do I love my city? Let me count the ways.

Half way there.

Techinically, I'm 52% of the way there. As Jen posted on her blog, I am now posting this map, which indicates each state where my feet have touched the ground:


create your own personalized map of the USA

And if you do your research properly, you'll notice that Bosco has the same map up, however, he's also included a countries visited map. Mine, sadly, is incredibly boring, as I've only ever been to the US and Canada. One of these days, when I can, I'll try to add some countries to my list.

Here's my Canada map, too:

create your own personalized map of Canada
or check out ourVancouver travel guide

Fun with maps... must be Thursday!

Back in the day

What seems like a million years ago, I was a first-year student at scenic Macalester College in St. Paul. I was a young, skinny, poetry-writing, guitar playing maniac who was out on his own and loving it. I had a girlfriend, I had a car, and I had a plethora of new friends who lived all around me.

I remember that first week in the dorms. One night, it rained like hell, so a bunch of us went outside and slid in the mud in the quad. I still don't think the lawn has recovered from that night, and if I recall correctly, the washing machines had to be replaced after we cleaned up. Another night I drank most of a bottle of tequila and kept falling out of bed, drunk off my ass. Eventually, one of my neighbors put all the chairs in my room against my bed so I'd stay in. Of course, I didn't.

I had this great class my first semester, popularly known as Physics for Poets, taught by Professor Kim. It was one of my all-time favorite classes. It was almost like discussing Star Trek and getting a grade for it. There was almost no math in the class, but lots of lectures about theoretical concepts and the like. The class was a blast, but that wasn't the real reason that it is the only class in my college history that I attended every single session of. Professor Kim would take your attendance percentage and replace your lowest test score with it. So, if you bombed a test, but showed up to every class, well, that C or D became an A.

Not that I bombed a test, although I did blow one off, and only got a C+, so the fact that my friend A come down to my room every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning to drag me (sometimes literally) to class, I cruised through to an A and had fun with the class. I'm sure it didn't help that he lived in the same neighborhood, and personally knew my High School Chemistry teacher as well.

Yesterday, dear friend and Mac alum Henry posted a link to a copy of our campus directory, but from 1972. I have to admit that it's really, really cool to check out my old professors as they were 20 years before I was their student. Especially the picture of one of my favorite professors, Sung K. Kim. Later, if I remember to do it, I will try to get pictures scanned of myself in our directory, and maybe, if I'm really lucky, I can find a couple shots of the skinny, long-haired, poetry-writing, guitar playing maniac I once was.

Could it be true?

I volunteered for a late shift today- which, of course, allowed me the opportunity to hang out late after pub quiz last night, which was a huge success. For the last month, it seems, we've had 40 people each week. Impressive numbers, to say the least.

Anyways.

I spent the night hanging with friends and quizzers, until I finally realized that I was going to fall asleep where I stood. Fortunately, the brain kicked in and realized it was high time to head home, so off I went. I slept like a drunken log. I slept in until 7:45, tried to go back to sleep, couldn't, so I started my day of morning leisure. The results of which are "wow, daytime TV sucks."

Then, I get into to work, sit down, reply to e-mails, and check out fark. My eyes did a double-take. Then another, and yet another before this image finally was completely processed by my brain:


Moving as though the words would run off like a frightened deer if I made any sudden gestures, I slowly, surely, carefully clicked on the tab, leading me to this article. I read it. I read it three times. I just re-read it again for good measure. Could it really be true? Is it over? Is the spirit of Archie Bennitz smiling?

Strange days (and Daves), indeed.

I haven't been sleeping right the last couple days. Sunday night, I was crasing out on the couch. I realized I had to work in the morning, so I dragged myself off to bed, much to my cat's content. It was probably 10 o'clock. I woke up, with a start, at 1:30- something seemed wrong, out of place. Nothing was. Everything was cool.

Unfortunately, I couldn't get back to sleep.

Similar things happened last night, except I couldn't fall asleep. What's going on in my head? No one knows. Especially not me. Probably for the best.

So, it's been a busy couple days, which were preceeded by a wonderful visit from my friend L, her husband, and of course, my favorite person under 4 feet tall:


It was a weekend of hard partying, lunching with my buddy, and lots of talking. It was fun. Damn fun. I can't wait to visit them in 3 weeks.

I also did something I didn't think I'd do for a long while- I hopped on my bike for a distance ride. I didn't do too much, only about 27 miles, but I still got out there. Felt good to be back on a bike. Felt better when I realized that I was covered in dead bugs when I got back. I know it sounds gross, but it's a sign that you had a good ride.

Pub quiz has been completed, so I'm just coasting my way through the rest of my day. Time for some well-earned Raiden.

Mulling things over in my head.

I didn't blog yesterday. I was too busy trying to find out about my friends who live in London to think about myself. Fortunately, I have heard from everyone, either directly or via blog, that I know over there. Unfortunately, there are still friends I've been trying to get a hold of from the NYC attacks all those years ago.

Anyways. I'm feeling relieved that my friends are ok, and sad that so many others are not.

Since yesterday, a scene from one of my all-time favorite movies has been bouncing around in my head:

Major Strasser: Are you one of those people who cannot imagine the Germans in their beloved Paris?
Rick: It's not particularly my beloved Paris.
Heinz: Can you imagine us in London?
Rick: When you get there, ask me!
Captain Renault: Hmmh! Diplomatist!
Major Strasser: How about New York?
Rick: Well there are certain sections of New York, Major, that I wouldn't advise you to try to invade.

Putting me in my place.

Yesterday, while I was bitching about having to deal with my upset cat whilst people were still setting off fireworks at 2:30 in the morning on July 5th, a young girl named Alyssa was fighting for her life, thanks to some [insert the worst word you can think of here, I'm too appalled to come up with one] who fired a gun into the air in Albuquerque.

Disgusting. Whoever's responsible, I sure hope that this eats you alive.

By the rocket's red glare.

It has been absosmurfinlutely busy around here today. No gigantic problems, just that we've got a guy on vacation for 2 weeks, so we're only 2 instead of our usual three during the days. Not to mention I've been holding way to many hands today. Example:

Cust: I want to add the Professional Level Package to my account.
Me: Are you on the subscription page?
Cust: Yes.
Me: All you have to do is scroll down to where it says "update package" and click on the button that says "Add Professional Level Package."
Cust: I don't see that I only see [exactly what's at the top of the screen, before you scroll down].
Me: You'll have to scroll down, sir, and I'd recommend reading through this- it's full of important information.
Cust: I still don't see it.
Me: Scroll down some more.
Cust: Oh, there it is.
Me: Okay, go ahead. [pause for him to click on it]
Cust: Should I click on "Add Professional Level Package?"
Voice in my head: No, fuckhead, you click on puree. What the fuck do you think you click on?
Meanwhile, of course, customers with actual problems- at least, I assume they have actual problems- are calling and going to voicemail because I'm hand-holding a dipshit who wants someone to read the screen at him. I fucking hate that.

That's just one of my assholes from today. If I had more time, and less call volume, I'd share other stories with you. As it stands, I had to have Jen write most of this week's pub quiz, because I've been too damn busy here to do it myself. Big props to her for doing all that work.

My other time-constricted rant today is brought to you by the 4th of July morons still setting off fireworks in my neighborhood at 2:30 this morning. Those of us who actually have jobs that require thinking and at least a somewhat decent night's sleep really didn't want their poor, confused and scared cat to scratch the piss out of them whenever you thought it was appropriate to send another whistler into the sky. Thanks for everything- I appreciate it.

Asshole.

*Yawn*

I'm at work today. Why? Because I volunteered. Hey, I'm getting overtime and a day off out of the deal. Besides, who wouldn't want to sit at their desk in shorts and sandals? I'm usually in a shirt and tie.

But it's so boring around here. One call in the last 1:48.

One.

And it went like this:
Cust: Can I get the TRYLW password for the week?"
Me: 4574.
Cust: Thanks. Have a good day.

Total elapsed time? 12 seconds, give or take.

So today isn't nearly as exciting as the rest of my weekend.

Friday, I was supposed to go out, hang with friends, see a couple bands, etc, etc. I fell asleep on the couch, cellphone on vibrate in my bedroom. Oops. Had a few missed calls when I finally found my phone. Saturday morning J and I went to IKEA aka SHOP for some much-needed clothing storage devices. I bought myself a wonderful wardrobe which holds almost all of my clothes- including all my hockey sweaters. Saturday night was fun, too, with drinks, karaoke, and more drinks. Sadly, this made for a very hungover Dave Sunday morning, when my popularity reached an unexpected zenith, with phone call after phone call coming in. I had just hung up after making breakfast plans with one friend when my friend D called:

D: Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?
Me: (realizing where this was going) Nothing.
D: Wanna go to the Cubs game?
Me: What time?
D: 1:20, I think.
Me: Where are we sitting?
D: In about the best fuckin' seats we'll have in our entire lives.
Me: Sure.

He didn't lie. Not that D usually opts to stretch the truth. We were 3 rows from the Nationals' on-deck circle. If you were watching the game yesterday, there's a very strong possiblity you would have seen me in the stands, attempting to enjoy Budweiser products and stay cool. Pictures to follow.

Anyways, I'm going to try to write some pub quiz questions to pass the time.

Horrible, horrible addiction.

Way back in the early 90's I was a young, long-haired college student. I had a girlfrield. I had new friends. I had a dorm room. I had a job working in an office, where I had been working for years, so I had some money to spend, despite being a broke college student. Fortunately for me, my father taught at a sister college of mine, so I got a whopping discount off my private-school tuition.

This, of course, coupled with my complete disdain for studying, led to frequent ventures to the student union, where I became completely and utterly addicted to Raiden. We played for hours. We played through class. We played until the union closed, then bitched about the union turning off our games.

Today, through fark, I found the above link. I'm playing like a madman. At least, I'm playing like a madman when I'm not fielding idiotic calls, which are rather frequent today.

Do you have photo?

For whatever reason blogger doesn't seem to be displaying pictures right now, at least, not ones recently uploaded, so this is the link to Jen's pictures from the MS Ride last weekend. My personal favorite? This one. To explain: back when I was in Physical Therapy, my therapist made a comment about yours truly needing a headband to keep the sweat from my eyes. I replied with "I don't know LT, I don't want to walk around looking like Jim McMahon or anything." I was, of course, referring to the fact that NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle, back in the 80's, didn't like the fact that McMahon had advertising on his headbands, so McMahon wrote 'Rozelle' on his headband (sorry the picture's so new). Only a couple days later, I came in with a headband with her name on it.

I'm so very witty.

Of course, there's another favorite of mine, taken right after I finished on day two, sweaty, tired, and showing off way too much skin. Peruse to your heart's content, friends and neighbors!